


Fade Away

by Shlevznark (Sampagita)



Series: L'Adoration de la Terre [3]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampagita/pseuds/Shlevznark
Summary: As more truths come to light, more will fall to darkness. With many lives at stake, morals will be questioned and rules will be broken. For Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Hans, try as they might, hope can only last for so long before it is crushed and asks for more than they can give.(I'm really bad at summaries.)Part three of a trilogy. Follows after the events of "Immurement."





	1. Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12969290/1/Fade-Away) on ff.net

Inhale.

Exhale.

Ignore it.

Hans pressed his hands against the wood wall of the ship's cabin as the flood of emotion threatened to overwhelm him, the urge to break something or run away tearing into his chest. His fingers clawed into the panels, the sound grating into his ears. The musk of saltwater and sweat filled his nostrils, the remnant scent of fear of what hid behind sleeping eyes taunting him.

His hands formed into fists, pressing into the wall further, the veins in his arms popping and his knuckles scrapping into the splinters.

"You're fine," Hans said to himself. "You're safe. Everyone's safe. None of it was real."

After pounding a fist, Hans collapsed in on himself and knelt on the floor with his forehead resting against the wall, the sudden wave of terror that overcame him in the night waxing away. He squeezed his eyes shut, the copper taste of biting his own tongue a reality check.

He knew he was lying to himself. Everything was real.

He had killed all those people, guilty or not. He had died once and then came so close to death. Kristoff was gone. Pieter was still out there somewhere.

He tried so hard, and still he failed.

Maybe he should just stop trying.

A knock on his door.

"Hans?"

It sounded like Rasmus.

Hans didn't move or make a sound.

"If you don't open the door, I'll break it down," Rasmus said.

Ignore it. Maybe it'll go away.

"I'm coming in," Rasmus said. The door swung open without effort, and out of the corner of his eye, Hans saw Rasmus pocketed a key. He almost wanted to see Rasmus break down a door.

"I'm fine," Hans said.

Rasmus picked him up off the floor and onto his feet. "No, you're not, you're staying with me tonight."

"I thought it was Jakob's turn."

"Ib drank himself into a stupor, so Ian is watching over him."

"Too bad I didn't join him."

That one earned him a firm tug on his ear.

"I was talking about Ian," Hans retorted, rubbing at his ear.

"There's certainly something wrong with you if even _I_ can tell if you're lying."

Hans sighed.

###

"New intel told me that we have to redirect our course to a merchant dock toward the east into a small port town," the captain told Queen Elsa.

"And who's this intel?"

"Smugglers, Your Majesty."

Elsa steepled her hands against her forehead with her elbows resting on the table, the discoloration of sleeplessness shadowing under her eyes.

She knew the voyage to the Southern Isles wasn't going to be as easy as it was the last time she was there. It didn't stop her from hoping a few months without having Pieter in control of the kingdom would allow for an eventless entry.

A small hope, at that. She knew better.

"Did they give any information about the situation?" she asked.

"They still have some open lines of communication for those that still show support to the Southern Isles royalty. The constable of the town has had to bend to the smugglers for help to ensure the people are content. Says it's easier to maintain order when there aren't too many hungry."

"What of the Order?"

The captain pulled out a newspaper from a nearby trunk and placed it in front of the monarch.

"It's all a mess," the captain said. "But at the very least the articles say the Order's activities were all a ruse. Before Prince Anders disappeared from the Southern Isles, it seems that he was able to send to the journalist his findings when the suspects appeared to have evidence of mind control and little else that pointed to the contrary. This is the latest the informants were able to give me. Most of it looks like analysis of events."

Elsa looked over the newspaper. She didn't bother to read any of it save for the headlines. There wasn't anything noteworthy that she didn't already know. At least it seemed that there were still people who held onto hope that the royal Westergaards would return to bring order and were't like Pieter. The anecdotes about Prince Anders worried her, however. The popular opinion expressed that he was being controlled by Pieter when the ransacking of the kingdom took place.

But the wording of the article title suggested that the seed of distrust of the Westergaards had sprouted.

Hopefully Prince Holger was up to the task of rebuilding their faith in the crown.

She knew fully well that her own people weren't faring much better, but at least they weren't close to rebelling against her.

The padding of heavy boots clunked against the ship's floorboards at the open doorway of the meeting room. Prince Anders knocked against the doorframe.

"Sorry to interrupt this meeting, Your Majesty," Prince Anders said, bowing before entering. "But I came to inform you that Prince Hans is now with Prince Rasmus, as I believed that you might have wanted to know."

Elsa nodded. She turned to the captain. "We'll make port upon the suggestions of the new intel. You may redirect our course, captain. You are free to go."

The captain bowed his head in acknowledgement to both the prince and the queen and left the room.

"Please shut the door, Prince Anders," she instructed.

He complied. "May I speak freely, Your Majesty?"

"You may. So what happened?"

Prince Anders adjusted his coat collar. "I left him alone in my quarters when I thought he was asleep and came back to find the door locked. I... decided to leave him with Prince Rasmus because Prince Jakob is... _preoccupied_ at the moment."

"You... left him?"

Anders stiffened his back and held himself at attention, his eyes sticking to the floor. "I still have much to... come to terms with, and I needed to stretch my legs to get my mind off of it. I'm sorry, I should've let you known sooner, Queen Elsa. I'll remove myself from the rotation and —"

Elsa held up a hand to stop him. "I understand, Prince Anders. We all need time to rebuild ourselves after so much was taken from us with King – I mean – with Pieter's treachery. While the physical rebuilding has been dealt with, only time can allow the internal rebuilding to have the same treatment."

"Make no mistake, I'm still concerned for my brother," Anders said, not lifting his eyes. "He's much more open than he used to be, but he's... constantly _preoccupied_. More than what I deem healthy."

He didn't have to explain which of his brothers he was talking about.

"I think you should have a word with him," Anders said.

"I've tried in the past."

"And?"

"It's... become apparent that things are very complicated between us right now."

A loud _thud_ from below deck.

"I'll try to speak to him again," she said.

###

"Hans, I think you should calm down."

A book flew across the room and slammed against the wall a few inches away from Rasmus' head. Rasmus didn't flinch and kept his arms crossed in front of him and stood stoic with analytical eyes.

Hans paced around the room and tugged at the roots of his hair, his eyes stinging from either dryness or crying. He hoped it was the former.

He expelled a strained grunt of a suppressed urge to scream as he hugged himself and crouched onto the floor, tilting his head onto his knees.

It was too much. His own unkempt emotions, the feelings of whatever Jorden was feeling at the moment, his own thoughts intermingling with Fate's and the disgruntled dragon-man thing he'd had to deal with for what seemed like forever.

He was ashamed to even tell anyone. He'd rather have a bruised ego and have his brothers watch over him as he "grieved" or something, than to admit that whatever mess he's gotten himself into this time was pulling at every inch of his resolve and his sanity. That would make them worry even more. They already had enough to deal with, what with going to the Southern Isles to help straighten up the mess Pieter made.

The thought of Pieter brought up Kristoff.

He shoved that can of worms closed before any of them could wriggle into his head.

_Knock. Knock._

"You may enter," Rasmus said.

The door opened and Elsa stepped into the room with Prince Anders in tow. Rasmus gave a respectful bow as she entered.

Hans stood at attention and pushed aside whatever was tormenting him before greeting Elsa in a similar manner.

"Hello, Hans," she said.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "Queen Elsa."

The corner of her lips twitched downward, but otherwise her face hid her disappointment.

Hans still noticed it, however.

"I came to check on you," she said.

"Thank you, but I'm fine for now," he said. "My brothers are keeping an eye on me."

She nodded. "Please remember that I'm here for you."

"Yes. Thank you, Queen Elsa."

She pursed her lips and nodded again. She left the room, leaving Prince Anders and Prince Rasmus alone with him. The door clicked shut as Anders swung it behind him.

Hans glared at Anders.

"You put her up to that, didn't you?" he accused.

"She's concerned about you just as much as we are," Anders defended. "Besides, she was able to reach you in ways that we couldn't. She couldn't possibly make whatever you're going through worse."

Hans folded back into himself, sitting all the way to the floor this time.

"I don't want her involved in this," Hans said. "There's enough on her plate as it is."

"Hans, open your eyes," Rasmus said. "We're all royalty. There's always going to be things on our plate. And to be quite honest, I think both you and the queen have some unspoken tension between you two that needs to be resolved first."

"There isn't any."

"There goes another blatant lie, little brother."

Hans' lungs heaved once to ground him.

"Look, she and I were able to rebuild Arendelle over the past few months. No tension at all. What, you expect her to always converse at length with her subordinates?"

"Yes," Prince Anders said. "She seems the type."

Hans scowled.

"What happened to you, Hans?" Rasmus said. "Up on the North Mountain, it looked like you two didn't even want to let go of each other, despite the impropriety that I do not condone. Now it's as if you're spurning each other away."

"It's... complicated."

Anders grunted in displeasure. "She said something similar." He knelt to the floor and tilted Hans' chin, forcing him to look straight into his eyes. "I know when you're hiding something. Don't make me interrogate you."

Hans felt his face grow hot in frustration and he pushed away Anders' hand. "Save it. You don't need to get involved with this."

"We're just concerned about you. We lost you once..."

The youngest sighed. "We'll talk about this later. Right now we need to keep our kingdom from falling into anarchy."

###

Pieter was only toying with his mind. Nothing he said was true. Pieter couldn't possibly be trying to instill hope in him. There had to be an ulterior motive in his words.

Kristoff still fell for it.

The blond ran a rough tongue over his cracked lips, the sharp flavor of blood hovering over the new split formed from another two days without water.

"They're setting their sights on the Southern Isles," Pieter said in his weekly recounting of events, as was his new norm. "Their plan appears to be to take away my claim to the throne and give it to Holger instead."

And as always, Kristoff kept silent.

There was no reason to believe him after all he did. He was making up everything. Even the stupid story about him being responsible for his parents' deaths, or the made-up lie that the trolls were responsible for having Anna fall in love with him, or even that out-of-nowhere admission that Pieter was intended to be his "fairy godfather" or something: none of it could possibly be true.

Yet time and time again for the past few months of being stuck in the dark with this psychopath, he found himself entertaining all the lies.

Lie or not, the thought that Pieter was getting his political power revoked amused Kristoff. The cretin needed to have more setbacks in his life.

Pieter frowned.

"Oh, I forgot to give you water again, didn't I," Pieter said. He turned to the pixie beside him and nodded. "You know, you should be a better advocate for yourself. Speak up every once in a while."

Kristoff gave no response.

The pixie conjured a stein of water on the floor in front of Kristoff.

"I know we go through this so often," he continued. "But I do hope you take better care of yourself. It pains me to have to force you to do it all the time."

The pixie and Pieter disappeared from the lightless dungeon.

Instinct wanted Kristoff to take the mug of water for self-preservation. His dry mouth and limp veins called for sustenance. The pounding headache warned him of how dangerously close he was to blacking out.

Not like he would be able to tell if he blacked out. Darkness was all he saw.

His fingertips traced along the floor, weaving around the joints of mortar and stone, hesitating as they found the cup of water in the void in front of him. They traced higher and found the handle.

His body begged for mercy.

Kristoff hurled the water away from him. The cup clattered against chiseled rock, the slosh and drip of water ran down the wall on the far side of him.

Pieter needed him alive.

He wasn't going let it be easy.

###

Queen Elsa sat at the edge of her mattress and stared into the wood grain of the wall in front of her. She tugged on the sleeves of her dress, her hands feeling naked without their gloves despite not needing them for some time.

Her cheek tingled at the memory.

_"I love you, too," she said._

It was only because they were scared. People say and do things that aren't necessarily true when they're afraid. Neither of them meant it.

 _No, you were only relieved,_ a part of her argued. _You never got to say it, and you didn't care about what happened as long as he knew._

Did she, though? She _did_ care about what happened, because now she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. She was glad he was back, yes, but...

While she openly expressed her love for him, he didn't.

It hurt her.

She decided to let it be. It pained her to see all the turmoil brewing behind his eyes. She suspected that his brothers saw it come out more around them than with her. While a part of her found it infuriating and frustrating since she tried so hard to have him open up in the past, she rejoiced with the fact he felt free to do so on his own around his family.

He still worried her.

She couldn't rush time though.

Elsa kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs onto her bed and hugged her knees, the skirts of her dress ruffling around her.

"Elsa?" a voice mumbled beneath the covers of the bed beside hers.

"It's just me, Anna," Elsa said, placing a hand on her sister's forehead and brushing aside a lock of stray hair. "Go back to sleep."

"Kristoff built me a snowman," her sister murmured near-unintelligibly.

The mattress creaked as Anna turned over in bed, the blankets being tugged closer to the princess' face as she snuggled into them.

Elsa frowned.

Anna hadn't been able to sleep right for months; and the only night she was able to fall asleep on time, Elsa had to go around and ruin it.

"Keep strong, Kristoff," Elsa whispered into the night. "Anna's still waiting for you."


	2. Omen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a little bit of violence towards the end of this chapter.

"We're arriving at port, Your Majesty," one of the sailors said through the door after knocking.

"Thank you," Elsa responded. The sailor's shoes scraped the floor as he moved away.

Elsa ran her brush through her hair as she sat in front of the cheval glass, the strands of pale blonde hair weaving between the bristles. A puff of air escaped her nostrils as she noted new strands of white intermingling with the youth of the rest of her scalp. Fortunate her hair was light enough for no one no notice. For her, she knew it was just a common manifestation of aging, progressing a little quicker than most due to her political status — yet white hair always represented regret.

Anna's missing childhood, the wasted time looking for Hans...

After braiding strands together, she coiled her hair into a bun and pinned it down. To finish it off, she placed her crown atop her head. It's weight pinched into her scalp, and she hated it.

There was never really any serious need for habitually wearing it back in Arendelle due to wanting to seem approachable to her people. However, for this trip to the Southern Isles, she needed to express authority, she needed people to look at her and know that she meant business. Arendelle was going to help build up her ally in its time of need and no one was to question when she announced her recognition of Prince Holger as the new King of the Southern Isles.

She hated politics as delicate as this. Overthrowing an established sovereign who wasn't dead was a delicate matter, despite the obvious fact that Pieter wasn't fit to rule. In order for her declaration of a change of hierarchy to be accepted, not only did the people have to claim it to be true, but the rest of the world needed to as well. The irony wasn't lost on her that the basics of the plan wasn't too dissimilar to Hans' plans years ago to take her throne, the amended plan in particular. It was just not as... _violent_.

An unconventional plan; but then again, Prince Hans' plans were never the conventional sort.

Doubt had to put its good word in: his plans never ended as they intended; what made this one any different?

Elsa closed her eyes and took a long breath. She then glanced over at her sister.

"Do you need any help getting ready, Anna?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," Anna replied.

Through the reflection in the mirror, Elsa saw her sister rake a comb through the tips of her hair. Same spot over and over, accomplishing nothing but failing at a mask of productivity. Anna's limp wrist trembled from a silent sorrow that Elsa knew was there.

"Here," Elsa offered, standing up. She took her sister's comb and detangled Anna's hair before taking a ribbon and styling her hair into a ponytail. She combed out Anna's bangs to the side to keep them away from her eyes.

Anna stared unseeing into the mirror before her. Then a light flickered somewhere in her mind as she blinked a few times and shook her head.

"Do you need a hug?" Elsa asked.

Anna's lip quivered as unshed tears welled in her eyes. She nodded.

Elsa took her sister by the shoulders and pulled her close.

"I dreamt about him last night," the princess whispered.

"We'll find him."

It was a silent agreement not to mention Kristoff by name to each other.

###

"Oh, it's winter here, too," growled Jorden. "A few more weeks of this..."

Displeasure blossomed in Hans' chest, a separate manifestation from his own feeling of dread. He gripped the rail of the ship tighter.

_"Turmoil and despair will greet you,"_ the ocean breeze whispered into his ear.

Other than clenching his jaw, he made no indication of both of the one-sided conversations going on inside of him. At least they weren't trying to talk to him at the same time as they did every once in a while, making it difficult to discern who was saying what. After a few weeks since he last saw Pieter, he learned to tune it all out to a degree. Fate or Jorden never asked him about the other, nor were they ever telling him anything of value.

Well, Fate did. Sometimes. Maybe.

While Hans had no idea what Fate felt about anything unlike he did with Jorden, patterns suggested that she wanted to tell him much more about future events but had to settle for things that could be things anyone else could've anticipated. Or split-second warnings that no one could react fast enough for.

At least Fate and Jorden tended to quiet during the night. When everyone was slumbering, even those that shared a piece of his awareness, was when he could finally have a moment to himself. If only those moments weren't filled with introspection, which would later drive him mad as the unfiltered regrets of his entire life chose to spill to the forefront.

The familiar coastline of the Southern Isles' countryside unfolded before Prince Hans as the boat crept closer through the cold fog blanketing the ocean, the faint glow of the lighthouse blooming through the grey. A chilled wind pinched his cheeks.

Years of experiencing the seasonal patterns of the kingdom said that it was going to be a harsh winter. Fortunately, the worst of it was still weeks away.

The image of Jorden beside him tugged the edges of his feathered cloak together. Hard lines pulled the corner of the spirit's eyes.

"For eons, I have felt my life pushed and pulled away from me with the changes of the year," Jorden said. "Never have I seen it before with my own eyes." He shivered. "I'm unsurprised at how dreadful it looks."

"Arendelle is further north," Hans said. "While not a great distance away, I've heard that winters are worse there."

"And you think I didn't know that?"

"Just saying if you think it looks bad now..."

Jorden shook his head as he faded away, his voice lingering in the air as he said, "I've known that ever since my fall from power. If only my blindness was from love instead of the hate it transformed to."

Huh. Interesting.

Neither Fate nor the Land revealed what happened to them all those millennia ago much. All he gathered was that they were once close, some mistake or misunderstanding happened, they were punished as a result, got separated and... now Hans was somehow stuck with them.

The rocking of the ship grew more pronounced as it slowed to the docks. Deckhands and dockworkers busied about, ropes tossed from one side to another, anchors splashed into the sea.

Hans flattened the wrinkles of his uniform coat of Arendelle with the palm of his gloved hand, no longer covered for safety but for warmth and tradition. He was, after all, still under the custody of the kingdom of Arendelle, never mind that he still held his royalty status in the Southern Isles.

From below, Elsa ascended the steps onto the deck, followed by Princess Anna and a couple guards. The twins and Rasmus followed after. Hans watched as all of them made their way off the ship.

He caught the queen's eye checking on him, casting a sidewards glance over her shoulder before returning her attention to the welcoming party that formed on the docks for her.

She looked... weary.

"Hey, you're forgetting something," Anders' voice broke through his thoughts.

Hans looked to the side and saw the fourth-born brother toting the scythe and the sword.

"I don't think the people will take kindly to a convicted felon freely carrying around weapons," Hans said.

"Well, _I'm_ not going to carry them for you."

"Why not just leave them?"

"A horrible idea because it's dangerous. And I don't think, uh, _they_ would like the idea of leaving these things to just _anyone_ either."

Hans scoffed and held out his hands. "Fine. But if this whole plan falls through because people think the queen is an insane chaotic monster that has no sense of law and order, it's on you."

Anders handed over the sword and watched Hans attach the sheathe to his hip before handing him the scythe. He hesitated a moment before relinquishing his grasp.

"No one believes that about Queen Elsa for one moment," Anders said. "Do... _you_ think she is?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

Anders nodded and turned away. Hans sensed the lawman's-gears turning in his brother's mind. During his childhood, that was never a good sign for Hans since it meant that Anders was suspicious and something confirmed it, a punishment was soon to follow. And it certainly was bad news for slimy convicts.

Did he just say something condemning?

"You're not an insane chaotic monster, Hans," Anders said and gave a firm pat on his shoulder before walking off the boat.

That was ridiculous. Hans didn't think _that_ about himself.

At least not out loud.

###

Kristoff's eyes opened to darkness, or at least it felt like they did.

Maybe he was still asleep and dreaming about nothing. He reached over and pinched his shoulder.

Nope, he was awake.

The pounding headache from earlier was still there, but now it felt like electrified nails being driven into his skull. Another split on his lip had formed in his sleep, and after running his fingers to check on the damage, he found blood had dripped and caked into his chin.

A flash of light burned into his retinas as a pixie appeared into the chamber. Kristoff promptly clamped his eyes, the white and glitter of an afterimage floating behind his eyelids disappearing after a few moments. He opened his eyes a crack.

One of Pieter's shoes tapped impatiently.

"I see you wish to continue to do this the hard way," Pieter said. "Very well."

Kristoff mentally braced himself when he saw the pitcher of water conjured by the pixie, withdrawing into his happy place filled with everything nice and pleasant that was certainly _not_ Pieter rough-handing his neck and wrenching his mouth open as water cascaded into his parched mouth and spilled to the front of his shirt. He was with Anna. He wasn't in this nightmare. He was free. He was—

A tear ran down the corner of his eye and he sputtered as the water was drowning him.

He was always horrible at lying to himself.

Pieter released him. Reflex forced Kristoff to swallow the rest of the water in his mouth before he exploded into fits of coughing.

Pieter crossed his arms. "I do hope that the irony is not lost on you that, in my plight that involved _avoiding_ to have to care for you, things have come full circle and here I am doing the very thing I've avoided." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. He turned to the pixie and nodded.

It was hard to pin down exactly what Kristoff was feeling, but the atmosphere around the chamber solidified into a nigh-tangible presence that prickled his skin. A shiver ran down his spine as everything around him screamed of... wrongness. However, his eyes told him that nothing had changed. He refrained from running his hands around to check himself.

With the few times it happened in the past, he knew it meant nothing. Hopefully. At least it meant nothing was happening specifically to him.

Didn't mean that this time he wasn't curious.

"What was that?" Kristoff between coughs, his voice hoarse and painful from the water.

"Oh, how nice of you to finally ask," Pieter chuckled. "You remember the executions my brother enacted? Those souls got sent here and can only be released by the pixies or those who have a physical presence of both this plane and the mortal world. Well, Amh'skelajas wanted those souls to power him in a time of need, correct? Can't use them while they're here and he's up there."

"So... what? You're making Jorden more powerful on purpose? Isn't that a bad thing for you?"

"Perhaps." Pieter knelt to one knee and draped his arm on it as he ran a searching gaze on it. "But you forget that Amh'skelajas is no longer a separate entity, and that power corrupts. I wonder how well a mortal can handle some... _small_ servings. Don't worry, I know you're wondering what this means for you. Since you've wormed your way into my plot, I'm still putting you to use. Even though I may no longer be recognized as a king, I still hold influence. I'd tell you more but... ignorance is bliss."

Pieter straightened from the floor and signaled an off-handed wave over his shoulder.

Kristoff was left in the dark again.

###

"Welcome, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna of Arendelle, to the kingdom of the Southern Isles!" a rosy-cheeked, uniformed man greeted, taking off his hat and bowing to the queen and exposing a mop of thinning, grey hair. His coat was nearly identical to Prince Anders', though it was missing a few embellishments that the prince's had. "I am Constable Henrik Lassen. Lord Werner sends his greetings and apologizes for not being able to receive you at the docks due to having fallen ill."

"Thank you, constable," Elsa said. "Tell Lord Werner that I send my regards and well-wishes to him."

"It will be done, Your Majesty. If it doesn't inconvenience you greatly, I do hope we make our way to my headquarters. It isn't safe being out here for too long."

"Understandable. Please, lead the way."

Another respectful bow and the man whisked the queen and her entourage down the street. There were numerous officers that lined the path, keeping the now-growing crowd at a distance. He eyed each of the townspeople as they passed by, filling Elsa with a sense of apprehension. She started to regret wearing such a bold target on her head, the crown digging into her skin now with each step she took.

"I also want to apologize for not greeting the princes," Henrik said. "It pains me to have to do it, but I feel that our safety is much more paramount than formal pleasantries."

Prince Anders chuckled, "Henrik, you know me better than that. If I'm wearing this uniform, I'm not your superior but merely a colleague."

"Even so, you still outrank me."

"Oh, you know what I meant. Say, how is your wife?"

"She's doing well, despite the um... incident..."

"Look, I'm really sorry about—"

"No, don't be. We all knew it wasn't really you. How's _your_ wife?"

"Good, according her last correspondence."

The casual conversation continued and eased the queen a little, freeing her to take in her surroundings. The architecture of the buildings bore similarities to those in the capital of the Southern Isles, which also bore resemblance to the homes and stores she was familiar with back in Arendelle. The citizens bowed as they continued their way.

She noticed why the atmosphere was so tense. It was too quiet.

With a glance to her side, she noticed Prince Hans wring his hands around the scythe's handle as he walked with his eyes tracing the floor. He noticed, too.

Echoed from the distance behind them: "Death to royalty!"

The tension melted and chaos exploded around them: men and women screamed as they ran into buildings, officers' hands going for their clubs and batons to both corral and dissuade the riled-up, some men and women breaking through the wall of officers, heavy hands of Henrik and Anders hurrying her and Anna into a nearby shop.

"Cannon! Cannon!" Prince Jakob shrieked, pointing down the road before splitting off with Christian, Rasmus, and Hans to take cover in an alleyway.

"How in the name of all that is good did they manage to get a _cannon!?_ " Henrik screamed as they piled into the little store.

They barely huddled into the back wall of the room as the boom of a cannon shook the windows and a cannonball ripped through the entire shopfront.

"Are they _trying_ to kill everyone?" Anders said.

Rasmus' voice carried over the ruckus. "Ian! Ian, stop!"

Through the gaping hole of the store, Elsa saw the other princes pour out of their hiding place to chase Prince Christian, Prince Hans the only one able to keep up.

"Oh God, what is that idiot doing!?" Anders screeched.

###

Time had slowed for Hans when the first crack of cannon-fire ripped through the air and decimated the store he saw Elsa was carried away to. He felt his heart in this throat when the inside was filled with sawdust and smoke and the fates of those inside were unknown.

He sighed in relief when he saw that they were able to evade the projectile.

"Pieter sends his regards," he heard Christian say.

His brain barely processed his words when the twin sprinted out and into the street.

"Ian! Ian, stop!" Rasmus called out.

Hans went off to chase Christian, his lungs and heart burning in effort. Ian was just in arm's reach and he was about to grab his arm and tackle him to the ground to stop him when he noticed a team of people loading the cannon again. He and Ian were in their line of fire.

He threw himself to the ground and rolled and was able to catch a leg of Ian's pants, causing his brother to stumble to the floor just as the cannon fired, the ammo sailing past them.

"Ian, what are you doing!?" he scolded. "Are you trying to get killed?"

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air behind them. Hans didn't take a moment to see what happened and rushed to the cannon, summoning the scythe to his side as another cannon was loaded once again. Hans leapt into the air and slammed the ground with both feet as he swung the scythe from behind him and over his head, impaling the earth with the blade. A crack formed and raced to the cannon, a wall of stalactites bursted from the gap and launched the cannon and the attackers away.

The group was incapacitated and a swarm of guards and officers went to apprehend them.

He groaned and dropped the scythe as he fell to his hands and knees, adrenaline and fatigue shaking through him. That was likely overkill and it took too much effort from him, but at least the main threat was dealt with. Hopefully there weren't more cannons.

His ears still picked up the sounds of a riled-up town, but it sounded like he was able to take the wind out of the rebellious citizens' sails so that order was reestablished. On the floor, Ian was out cold — must've hit his head on the way down. Rasmus looked dumbfounded (Hans wasn't aware that he had followed). The city was a splintered mess.

Rasmus turned to him. "Jakob..."

"What happened to Jakob?" he asked.

It was then that he noticed the spray of red that splotched along Rasmus' side from an unseen wound.

Hans eyed the blood on his brother, searching for an injury and wasn't yet able to see one. "I think you're hurt, Rasmus."

"Jakob..." Rasmus looked at where Ian was.

Oh. It... wasn't Ian. Where did Ian go, anyway? Maybe in all the excitement he lost track of where everyone was. He looked around and tried to spot the other twin and wasn't able to find him. He took a better look at Jakob on the ground.

His arm wasn't supposed to bend that way. Why was there so much blood...?

"Let me go!" Anders' voice carried from the distance. He saw the constable and Elsa trying to restrain him. "They killed him! They deserve to rot in hell and ripped to shreds! Once I get my hands on them, they'll wish the devil himself has them and their families to torment them for eternity!" He was brought to his knees as he struggled. "Execute them! I order you to execute every single one of their disloyal hides!"

Then it finally dawned on Hans what had happened. "...Jakob?"


End file.
